Seneca: EPISTULAE MORALES AD LUCILIUM

[1] Quid non potest mihi persuaderi, cui persuasum est ut navigarem? Solvi mari languido; erat sine dubio caelum grave sordidis nubibus, quae fere aut in aquam aut in ventum resolvuntur, sed putavi tam pauca milia a Parthenope tua usque Puteolos subripi posse, quamvis dubio et impendente caelo. Itaque quo celerius evaderem, protinus per altum ad Nesida derexi praecisurus omnes sinus.

[1] What cannot be persuaded to me, to whom it was persuaded to sail? I set sail on a languid sea; without doubt the sky was heavy with sordid clouds, which generally are resolved either into water or into wind, but I thought that so few miles from your Parthenope all the way to Puteoli could be snatched, although the sky was dubious and impending. And so, that I might get clear the more quickly, straight across the deep I directed for Nesida, about to cut off all the bays.

[2] Cum iam eo processissem ut mea nihil interesset utrum irem an redirem, primum aequalitas illa quae me corruperat periit; nondum erat tempestas, sed iam inclinatio maris ac subinde crebrior fluctus. Coepi gubernatorem rogare ut me in aliquo litore exponeret: aiebat ille aspera esse et importuosa nec quicquam se aeque in tempestate timere quam terram.

[2] When I had now advanced to the point that it made no difference to me whether I went or returned, first that evenness which had corrupted me perished; there was not yet a tempest, but already an inclination of the sea and, by and by, a more frequent swell. I began to ask the helmsman to set me ashore on some coast: he said the shores were rough and harborless, and that in a storm he feared nothing as much as land.

[3] Peius autem vexabar quam ut mihi periculum succurreret; nausia enim me segnis haec et sine exitu torquebat, quae bilem movet nec effundit. Institi itaque gubernatori et illum, vellet nollet, coegi, peteret litus. Cuius ut viciniam attigimus, non exspecto ut quicquam ex praeceptis Vergilii fiat,

[3] But I was vexed more grievously than that danger could come to my aid; for this sluggish and exitless nausea was tormenting me, which stirs the bile and does not pour it out. So I pressed the pilot and, willing or unwilling, I forced him to seek the shore. And when we touched its vicinity, I do not wait for anything to be done according to the precepts of Vergil,

obvertunt pelago proras

they turn the prows to the sea

aut

ancora de prora iacitur:

the anchor is cast from the prow:

memor artificii mei vetus frigidae cultor mitto me in mare, quomodo psychrolutam decet, gausapatus.

mindful of my art, a veteran devotee of the cold-bath, I plunge into the sea, as befits a psychrolute, gausapa-clad.

[4] Quae putas me passum dum per aspera erepo, dum viam quaero, dum facio? Intellexi non immerito nautis terram timeri. Incredibilia sunt quae tulerim, cum me ferre non possem: illud scito, Ulixem non fuisse tam irato mari natum ut ubique naufragia faceret: nausiator erat.

[4] What do you think I suffered while I was crawling through rough places, while I was seeking a way, while I was making one? I realized that the land is not without reason feared by sailors. The things I endured are incredible, when I could not even carry myself: know this—Ulysses was not born to so angry a sea as to make shipwrecks everywhere; he was a seasick man.

Et ego quocumque navigare debuero vicensimo anno perveniam.

And I too, wherever I shall have to sail, I will arrive in the 20th year.

[5] Ut primum stomachum, quem scis non cum mari nausiam effugere, collegi, ut corpus unctione recreavi, hoc coepi mecum cogitare, quanta nos vitiorum nostrorum sequeretur oblivio, etiam corporalium, quae subinde admonent sui, nedum illorum quae eo magis latent quo maiora sunt.

[5] As soon as I gathered my stomach, which you know does not escape nausea along with the sea, and refreshed my body with unction, I began to think with myself this: how great an oblivion of our vices follows us—even of corporal ones, which from time to time admonish us of themselves—let alone of those which the greater they are, the more they lie hidden.

[6] Levis aliquem motiuncula decipit; sed cum crevit et vera febris exarsit, etiam duro et perpessicio confessionem exprimit. Pedes dolent, articuli punctiunculas sentiunt: adhuc dissimulamus et aut talum extorsisse dicimus nos aut in exercitatione aliqua laborasse. Dubio et incipiente morbo quaeritur nomen, qui ubi ut talaria coepit intendere et utrosque distortos pedes fecit, necesse est podagram fateri.

[6] A slight little stirring deceives someone; but when it has grown and a true fever has flared up, it even wrings a confession from a hard and long-suffering man. The feet ache, the joints feel little pricks: we still dissimulate and say either that we have wrenched the talus (ankle) or that we have labored in some exercise. While the disease is doubtful and incipient, a name is sought; but when it has begun to tighten like anklets and has made both feet contorted, it is necessary to confess podagra (gout).

[7] Contra evenit in his morbis quibus afficiuntur animi: quo quis peius se habet, minus sentit. Non est quod mireris, Lucili carissime; nam qui leviter dormit, et species secundum quietem capit et aliquando dormire se dormiens cogitat: gravis sopor etiam somnia exstinguit animumque altius mergit quam ut in ullo intellectu sui sit.

[7] The contrary happens in those diseases with which souls are affected: the worse one is in condition, the less he perceives it. There is no reason for you to marvel, dearest Lucilius; for he who sleeps lightly both takes appearances according to quiet and sometimes, while sleeping, thinks that he is sleeping: heavy sopor extinguishes even dreams and plunges the mind deeper than to be in any awareness of itself.

[8] Quare vitia sua nemo confitetur? quia etiam nunc in illis est: somnium narrare vigilantis est, et vitia sua confiteri sanitatis indicium est. Expergiscamur ergo, ut errores nostros coarguere possimus.

[8] Why does no one confess his vices? Because even now he is in them: to tell a dream is the mark of one who is awake, and to confess one’s own vices is an indication of sanity. Let us wake up, therefore, so that we may be able to arraign our errors.

Sola autem nos philosophia excitabit, sola somnum excutiet gravem: illi te totum dedica. Dignus illa es, illa digna te est: ite in complexum alter alterius. Omnibus aliis rebus te nega, fortiter, aperte; non est quod precario philosopheris.

Only philosophy, however, will rouse us; only it will shake off the grave sleep: to it dedicate yourself entire. You are worthy of it; it is worthy of you: go, each into the embrace of the other. To all other things refuse yourself, bravely, openly; there is no reason for you to philosophize on sufferance.

[9] Si aeger esses, curam intermisisses rei familiaris et forensia tibi negotia excidissent nec quemquam tanti putares cui advocatus in remissione descenderes; toto animo id ageres ut quam primum morbo liberareris. Quid ergo? non et nunc idem facies?

[9] If you were sick, you would have interrupted the care of your household estate, and your forensic business would have fallen away, nor would you think anyone of such worth for whom you would descend as an advocate during a remission; with your whole mind you would be doing this, that you might be freed from the disease as soon as possible. What then? Will you not do the same now as well?

omnia impedimenta dimitte et vaca bonae menti: nemo ad illam pervenit occupatus. Exercet philosophia regnum suum; dat tempus, non accipit; non est res subsiciva; ordinaria est, domina est, adest et iubet.

dismiss all impediments and be free for a good mind: no one reaches it while occupied. philosophy exercises its own reign; it gives time, it does not take it; it is not a residual affair; it is the regular (ordinary) business, it is mistress; it is present and it commands.

[10] Alexander cuidam civitati partem agrorum et dimidium rerum omnium promittenti 'eo' inquit 'proposito in Asiam veni, ut non id acciperem quod dedissetis, sed ut id haberetis quod reliquissem'. Idem philosophia rebus omnibus: 'non sum hoc tempus acceptura quod vobis superfuerit, sed id vos habebitis quod ipsa reiecero'.

[10] Alexander, to a certain city that was promising a part of its fields and half of all its goods, said: 'with this,' he says, 'purpose I came into Asia, that I should not receive what you had given, but that you should have what I had left behind'. The same does philosophy in all matters: 'I am not going to accept that time which has been left over to you, but you will have that which I myself shall have rejected'.

[11] Totam huc converte mentem, huic asside, hanc cole: ingens intervallum inter te et ceteros fiet; omnes mortales multo antecedes, non multo te dii antecedent. Quaeris quid inter te et illos interfuturum sit? diutius erunt.

[11] Turn your whole mind hither, sit by this, cultivate this: a huge interval will be made between you and the others; you will far precede all mortals, the gods will not precede you by much. Do you ask what will intervene between you and them? They will last longer.

At mehercules magni artificis est clusisse totum in exiguo; tantum sapienti sua quantum deo omnis aetas patet. Est aliquid quo sapiens antecedat deum: ille naturae beneficio non timet, suo sapiens.

But, by Hercules, it is the mark of a great artificer to have enclosed the whole in something small; the wise man’s own time lies open to him as fully as every age to God. There is something in which the wise man surpasses God: he does not fear by nature’s benefaction, the wise man by his own.

[12] Ecce res magna, habere imbecillitatem hominis, securitatem dei. Incredibilis philosophiae vis est ad omnem fortuitam vim retundendam. Nullum telum in corpore eius sedet; munita est, solida; quaedam defetigat et velut levia tela laxo sinu eludit, quaedam discutit et in eum usque qui miserat respuit.

[12] Behold a great thing: to have the imbecility of a man, the security of a god. The incredible power of philosophy is for blunting every fortuitous force. No missile sits/lodges in its body; it is fortified, solid; some things it wearies, and, as if they were light missiles, with a loosened fold it eludes; some things it shakes off and spits back even upon him who had sent them.

Vale.

Farewell.

LIV. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

54. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETINGS

[1] Longum mihi commeatum dederat mala valetudo; repente me invasit. 'Quo genere?' inquis. Prorsus merito interrogas: adeo nullum mihi ignotum est.

[1] Bad health had granted me a long furlough; suddenly it invaded me. 'Of what kind?' you ask. Quite rightly you ask: to such an extent that none is unknown to me.

Uni tamen morbo quasi assignatus sum, quem quare Graeco nomine appellem nescio; satis enim apte dici suspirium potest. Brevis autem valde et procellae similis est impetus; intra horam fere desinit: quis enim diu exspirat?

To one disease, however, I have as it were been assigned, which I do not know why I should call by a Greek name; for it can quite aptly be called a suspiration. But the impetus is very brief and like a squall; within an hour it generally ceases: for who expires for long?

[2] Omnia corporis aut incommoda aut pericula per me transierunt: nullum mihi videtur molestius. Quidni? aliud enim quidquid est aegrotare est, hoc animam egerere.

[2] All the body’s inconveniences or perils have passed through me: none seems to me more troublesome. Why not? For whatever else there is, is to be ill; this is to heave out the soul.

Itaque medici hanc 'meditationem mortis' vocant; facit enim aliquando spiritus ille quod saepe conatus est. Hilarem me putas haec tibi scribere quia effugi?

And so the physicians call this a 'meditation of death'; for that breath sometimes does what it has often attempted. Do you think me cheerful to write these things to you because I have escaped?

[3] Tam ridicule facio, si hoc fine quasi bona valetudine delector, quam ille, quisquis vicisse se putat cum vadimonium distulit.

[3] I act just as ridiculously, if I am delighted at this outcome as though with good health, as that fellow—whoever he is—who thinks he has won when he has deferred his recognizance to appear.

Ego vero et in ipsa suffocatione non desii cogitationibus laetis ac fortibus acquiescere.

Indeed, even in the very suffocation, I did not cease to acquiesce in cheerful and stout cogitations.

[4] 'Quid hoc est?' inquam 'tam saepe mors experitur me? Faciat: [at] ego illam diu expertus sum.' 'Quando?' inquis. Antequam nascerer. Mors est non esse.

[4] 'What is this?' I say, 'does death so often make trial of me? Let it do so: [but] I have long made trial of her.' 'When?' you ask. Before I was born. Death is non-being.

Id quale sit iam scio: hoc erit post me quod ante me fuit. Si quid in hac re tormenti est, necesse est et fuisse, antequam prodiremus in lucem; atqui nullam sensimus tunc vexationem.

I already know what sort that is: this will be after me what it was before me. If there is any torment in this matter, it is necessary that it also was, before we came forth into the light; and yet we felt no vexation then.

[5] Rogo, non stultissimum dicas si quis existimet lucernae peius esse cum exstincta est quam antequam accenditur? Nos quoque et exstinguimur et accendimur: medio illo tempore aliquid patimur, utrimque vero alta securitas est. In hoc enim, mi Lucili, nisi fallor, erramus, quod mortem iudicamus sequi, cum illa et praecesserit et secutura sit.

[5] I ask, would you not call it most foolish if someone should suppose that a lamp is worse when it has been extinguished than before it is kindled? We too are both extinguished and kindled: in that middle time we suffer something, but on both sides there is profound security. For in this, my Lucilius, unless I am mistaken, we err, that we judge death to follow, whereas it has both preceded and will follow.

Quidquid ante nos fuit mors est; quid enim refert non incipias an desinas, cum utriusque rei hic sit effectus, non esse?

Whatever was before us is death; for what difference does it make whether you do not begin or you cease, since the effect of both things is this: not to be?

[6] His et eiusmodi exhortationibus - tacitis scilicet, nam verbis locus non erat - alloqui me non desii; deinde paulatim suspirium illud, quod esse iam anhelitus coeperat, intervalla maiora fecit et retardatum est. At remansit, nec adhuc, quamvis desierit, ex natura fluit spiritus; sentio haesitationem quandam eius et moram. Quomodo volet, dummodo non ex animo suspirem.

[6] With these and the like exhortations - silent ones, to wit, for there was no place for words - I did not cease to address myself; then gradually that sighing, which had already begun to be panting, made larger intervals and was slowed. But it remained, and as yet, although it has ceased, the breath does not flow by nature; I feel a certain hesitation of it and a delay. As it will, provided that I do not sigh from my soul.

[7] Hoc tibi de me recipe: non trepidabo ad extrema, iam praeparatus sum, nihil cogito de die toto. Illum tu lauda et imitare quem non piget mori, cum iuvet vivere: quae est enim virtus, cum eiciaris, exire? Tamen est et hic virtus: eicior quidem, sed tamquam exeam.

[7] Take this from me as a pledge: I will not tremble at the last; I am already prepared; I think nothing about the whole day. You praise and imitate that man whom it does not irk to die, when it pleases to live: for what virtue is it, when you are ejected, to exit? Yet even here there is virtue: I am indeed being ejected, but as though I were exiting.

Et ideo numquam eicitur sapiens quia eici est inde expelli unde invitus recedas: nihil invitus facit sapiens; necessitatem effugit, quia vult quod coactura est. Vale.

And therefore the wise man is never ejected, because to be ejected is to be expelled from that whence you would withdraw unwillingly: the wise man does nothing unwillingly; he escapes necessity, because he wills what compulsion is about to enforce. Farewell.

LV. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

55. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETINGS

[1] A gestatione cum maxime venio, non minus fatigatus quam si tantum ambulassem quantum sedi; labor est enim et diu ferri, ac nescio an eo maior quia contra naturam est, quae pedes dedit ut per nos ambularemus, oculos ut per nos videremus. Debilitatem nobis indixere deliciae, et quod diu noluimus posse desimus.

[1] I come just now from a ride, no less fatigued than if I had walked as much as I sat; for to be carried for a long time is labor too, and I do not know but that it is the greater because it is against nature, which gave feet so that we might walk by ourselves, eyes so that we might see by ourselves. Delights have imposed debility upon us, and what we were unwilling to do for a long time we cease to be able to do.

[2] Mihi tamen necessarium erat concutere corpus, ut, sive bilis insederat faucibus, discuteretur, sive ipse ex aliqua causa spiritus densior erat, extenuaret illum iactatio, quam profuisse mihi sensi. Ideo diutius vehi perseveravi invitante ipso litore, quod inter Cumas et Servili Vatiae villam curvatur et hinc mari, illinc lacu velut angustum iter cluditur. Erat autem a recenti tempestate spissum; fluctus enim illud, ut scis, frequens et concitatus exaequat, longior tranquillitas solvit, cum harenis, quae umore alligantur, sucus abscessit.

[2] For me, however, it was necessary to shake the body, so that, whether bile had settled in the throat, it might be shaken off, or whether the breath itself for some cause was denser, the tossing might attenuate it, which I felt had benefited me. Therefore I persevered in being carried for longer, the shore itself inviting, which between Cumae and the villa of Servilius Vatia curves, and on this side by the sea, on that side by the lake is shut in like a narrow path. Moreover it was compacted from a recent tempest; for the frequent and impetuous billow, as you know, levels it, a longer tranquility loosens it, when the moisture has withdrawn from the sands which are bound by dampness.

[3] Ex consuetudine tamen mea circumspicere coepi an aliquid illic invenirem quod mihi posset bono esse, et derexi oculos in villam quae aliquando Vatiae fuit. In hac ille praetorius dives, nulla alia re quam otio notus, consenuit, et ob hoc unum felix habebatur. Nam quotiens aliquos amicitiae Asinii Galli, quotiens Seiani odium, deinde amor merserat - aeque enim offendisse illum quam amasse periculosum fuit -, exclamabant homines, 'o Vatia, solus scis vivere'.

[3] Yet according to my consuetude I began to look around to see whether I might find anything there that could be to my good, and I directed my eyes to the villa which once was Vatia’s. In this the wealthy praetorian, known for nothing other than leisure, grew old, and on this one account he was held happy. For as often as the friendship of Asinius Gallus, as often as Sejanus’s hatred, and then his love, had sunk some men — for it was equally dangerous to have offended him as to have loved him — people used to exclaim, 'o Vatia, you alone know how to live'.

[4] At ille latere sciebat, non vivere; multum autem interest utrum vita tua otiosa sit an ignava. Numquam aliter hanc villam Vatia vivo praeteribam quam ut dicerem, 'Vatia hic situs est'. Sed adeo, mi Lucili, philosophia sacrum quiddam est et venerabile ut etiam si quid illi simile est mendacio placeat. Otiosum enim hominem seductum existimat vulgus et securum et se contentum, sibi viventem, quorum nihil ulli contingere nisi sapienti potest.

[4] But he knew how to lurk, not how to live; and there is a great difference whether your life is leisured or slothful. Never did I pass by this villa while Vatia was alive otherwise than to say, 'Vatia lies here.' But so sacred and venerable a thing, my Lucilius, is philosophy, that even if anything resembling it is a falsehood, it pleases. For the common crowd reckons the man at leisure, secluded, to be secure and self-content, living for himself—none of which can befall anyone save the wise man.

Ille solus scit sibi vivere; ille enim, quod est primum, scit vivere.

He alone knows how to live for himself; for he, which is the first thing, knows how to live.

[5] Nam qui res et homines fugit, quem cupiditatum suarum infelicitas relegavit, qui alios feliciores videre non potuit, qui velut timidum atque iners animal metu oblituit, ille sibi non vivit, sed, quod est turpissimum, ventri, somno, libidini; non continuo sibi vivit qui nemini. Adeo tamen magna res est constantia et in proposito suo perseverantia ut habeat auctoritatem inertia quoque pertinax.

[5] For he who flees things and men, whom the infelicity of his desires has relegated, who could not see others more fortunate, who, like a timid and inert animal, has been overlaid by fear, he does not live for himself, but, what is most disgraceful, for his belly, sleep, lust; he does not thereby live for himself who lives for no one. So great a matter, however, are constancy and perseverance in one’s purpose that even a pertinacious inertia has authority.

[6] De ipsa villa nihil tibi possum certi scribere; frontem enim eius tantum novi et exposita, quae ostendit etiam transeuntibus. Speluncae sunt duae magni operis, cuivis laxo atrio pares, manu factae, quarum altera solem non recipit, altera usque in occidentem tenet. Platanona medius rivus et a mari et ab Acherusio lacu receptus euripi modo dividit, alendis piscibus, etiam si assidue exhauriatur, sufficiens.

[6] About the villa itself I can write nothing certain to you; for I know only its front and the portions set out, which it shows even to those passing by. There are two caves of great workmanship, equal to any spacious atrium, wrought by hand, of which one does not admit the sun, the other holds it all the way until sunset. A central brook, taken in both from the sea and from the Acherusian lake, divides the plane‑tree grove after the manner of a Euripus, sufficient for rearing fish, even if it is continually drained.

Sed illi, cum mare patet, parcitur: cum tempestas piscatoribus dedit ferias, manus ad parata porrigitur.

But for it, when the sea lies open, it is spared: when the tempest has granted holidays to the fishermen, the hand is stretched out to the things prepared.

[7] Hoc tamen est commodissimum in villa, quod Baias trans parietem habet: incommodis illarum caret, voluptatibus fruitur. Has laudes eius ipse novi: esse illam totius anni credo; occurrit enim Favonio et illum adeo excipit ut Bais neget. Non stulte videtur elegisse hunc locum Vatia in quem otium suum pigrum iam et senile conferret.

[7] Yet this is the most commodious thing in the villa, that it has Baiae across the wall: it is free from their inconveniences, and it enjoys their pleasures. These praises of it I myself know: I believe it to be year‑round; for it meets the Favonius and so receives it that it makes Baiae deny it. Vatia does not seem to have chosen this place foolishly, to which he might transfer his otium, already sluggish and senile.

[8] Sed non multum ad tranquillitatem locus confert: animus est qui sibi commendet omnia. Vidi ego in villa hilari et amoena maestos, vidi in media solitudine occupatis similes. Quare non est quod existimes ideo parum bene compositum esse te quod in Campania non es. Quare autem non es? huc usque cogitationes tuas mitte.

[8] But the place contributes not much to tranquility: it is the mind that makes all things commendable to itself. I have seen in a cheerful and pleasant villa men sad; I have seen in the midst of solitude men like the preoccupied. Therefore, there is no reason for you to think you are the less well-composed because you are not in Campania. But why are you not? Send your thoughts hither, even so far as this.

[9] Conversari cum amicis absentibus licet, et quidem quotiens velis, quamdiu velis. Magis hac voluptate, quae maxima est, fruimur dum absumus; praesentia enim nos delicatos facit, ct quia aliquando una loquimur, ambulamus, consedimus, cum diducti sumus nihil de iis quos modo vidimus cogitamus.

[9] It is permitted to converse with absent friends, and indeed as often as you wish, as long as you wish. We enjoy this pleasure, which is the greatest, more while we are away; for presence makes us delicate, and, because at times we speak together, walk, sit down, when we are separated we think nothing about those whom we have just seen.

[10] Et ideo aequo animo ferre debemus absentiam, quia nemo non multum etiam praesentibus abest. Pone hic primum noctes separatas, deinde occupationes utrique diversas, deinde studia secreta, suburbanas profectiones: videbis non multum esse quod nobis peregrinatio eripiat.

[10] And therefore we ought to bear absence with an even mind, because no one is not much absent even from those who are present. Set here first the nights spent apart, then the occupations different for each, then the secret studies, the suburban departures: you will see that there is not much which peregrination robs from us.

[11] Amicus animo possidendus est; hic autem numquam abest; quemcumque vult cotidie videt. Itaque mecum stude, mecum cena, mecum ambula: in angusto vivebamus, si quicquam esset cogitationibus clusum. Video te, mi Lucili; cum maxime audio; adeo tecum sum ut dubitem an incipiam non epistulas sed codicellos tibi scribere.

[11] A friend is to be possessed in the spirit; the spirit, however, is never absent; it sees whomever it wishes every day. And so, study with me, dine with me, walk with me: we should be living in a narrow space, if anything were closed to cogitations. I see you, my Lucilius; just now I hear you; I am so with you that I hesitate whether I should begin to write to you not letters but little note‑tablets.

Vale.

Farewell.

LVI. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

56. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETINGS

[1] Peream si est tam necessarium quam videtur silentium in studia seposito. Ecce undique me varius clamor circumsonat: supra ipsum balneum habito. Propone nunc tibi omnia genera vocum quae in odium possunt aures adducere: cum fortiores exercentur et manus plumbo graves iactant, cum aut laborant aut laborantem imitantur, gemitus audio, quotiens retentum spiritum remiserunt, sibilos et acerbissimas respirationes; cum in aliquem inertem et hac plebeia unctione contentum incidi, audio crepitum illisae manus umeris, quae prout plana pervenit aut concava, ita sonum mutat.

[1] May I perish if silence is as necessary as it seems for one set apart to studies. Behold, on every side a various clamor resounds around me: I dwell right above the bathhouse itself. Set before yourself now all the kinds of voices which can bring the ears into odium: when the stronger men exercise and throw hands made heavy with lead, when they either labor or imitate one laboring, I hear groans whenever they let go the breath they had held, hisses and the most acerb respirations; when I happen upon some inert fellow and content with this plebeian unction, I hear the crack of a hand dashed against shoulders, which, according as it reaches a flat or a hollow part, thus changes its sound.

Si vero pilicrepus supervenit et numerare coepit pilas, actum est.

But if indeed the ball-player comes along and begins to count the balls, it's all over.

[2] Adice nunc scordalum et furem deprensum et illum cui vox sua in balineo placet, adice nunc eos qui in piscinam cum ingenti impulsae aquae sono saliunt. Praeter istos quorum, si nihil aliud, rectae voces sunt, alipilum cogita tenuem et stridulam vocem quo sit notabilior subinde exprimentem nec umquam tacentem nisi dum vellit alas et alium pro se clamare cogit; iam biberari varias exclamationes et botularium et crustularium et omnes popinarum institores mercem sua quadam et insignita modulatione vendentis.

[2] Add now the brawler and the thief caught in the act and that fellow who takes pleasure in his own voice in the bath; add now those who leap into the pool with the immense sound of water set in motion. Besides these—whose voices, if nothing else, are at least natural—picture the depilator, continually emitting a thin and stridulous voice so as to be more noticeable, and never silent except while he plucks armpits and compels another to shout for him; now the drink-seller with his various exclamations, and the sausage-seller and the pastry-seller, and all the hucksters of the cookshops, selling their merchandise with a certain and distinctive modulation.

[3] 'O te' inquis 'ferreum aut surdum, cui mens inter tot clamores tam varios, tam dissonos constat, cum Chrysippum nostrum assidua salutatio perducat ad mortem.' At mehercules ego istum fremitum non magis curo quam fluctum aut deiectum aquae, quamvis audiam cuidam genti hanc unam fuisse causam urbem suam transferendi, quod fragorem Nili cadentis ferre non potuit.

[3] 'O you,' you say, 'iron or deaf, whose mind stands firm amid so many clamors, so various, so dissonant, when our Chrysippus is driven to death by continual salutation.' But, by Hercules, I care no more for that din than for the surge or the discharge of water, although I hear that for a certain nation this alone was the cause of transferring their city, because it could not endure the crash of the falling Nile.

[4] Magis mihi videtur vox avocare quam crepitus; illa enim animum adducit, hic tantum aures implet ac verberat. In his quae me sine avocatione circumstrepunt essedas transcurrentes pono et fabrum inquilinum et serrarium vicinum, aut hunc qui ad Metam Sudantem tubulas experitur et tibias, nec cantat sed exclamat:

[4] It seems to me that a voice calls away more than a clatter; for that draws the mind in, this only fills and lashes the ears. Among the things which clamour around me without distraction I put the essedas (chariots) rushing past, and a lodger-smith and a neighboring sawyer, or that fellow who at the Meta Sudans tests little pipes and tibiae (reed-pipes), and he does not sing but shouts:

[5] etiam nunc molestior est mihi sonus qui intermittitur subinde quam qui continuatur. Sed iam me sic ad omnia ista duravi ut audire vel pausarium possim voce acerbissima remigibus modos dantem. Animum enim cogo sibi intentum esse nec avocari ad externa; omnia licet foris resonent, dum intus nihil tumultus sit, dum inter se non rixentur cupiditas et timor, dum avaritia luxuriaque non dissideant nec altera alteram vexet.

[5] even now the sound that is interrupted from time to time is more troublesome to me than that which is continuous. But by now I have so hardened myself to all those things that I could even listen to a time-keeper, with a most biting voice, giving the measures to the rowers. For I compel my mind to be intent upon itself and not to be called away to externals; let everything resound outside, provided that within there be no tumult, provided that desire and fear do not quarrel with one another, provided that avarice and luxury are not at odds and that neither vex the other.

Nam quid prodest totius regionis silentium, si affectus fremunt?

For what profit is the silence of the whole region, if the affections roar?

[6] Omnia noctis erant placida composta quiete.

[6] All things were composed by the placid quiet of night.

Falsum est: nulla placida est quies nisi quam ratio composuit; nox exhibet molestiam, non tollit, et sollicitudines muta. Nam dormientium quoque insomnia tam turbulenta sunt quam dies: illa tranquillitas vera est in quam bona mens explicatur.

It is false: no placid repose exists except that which reason has composed; night presents annoyance, it does not remove it, and it changes solicitudes. For even the dreams of sleepers are as turbulent as the day: that tranquility is the true one into which a good mind is unfolded.

[7] Aspice illum cui somnus laxae domus silentio quaeritur, cuius aures ne quis agitet sonus, omnis servorum turba conticuit et suspensum accedentium propius vestigium ponitur: huc nempe versatur atque illuc, somnum inter aegritudines levem captans; quae non audit audisse se queritur.

[7] Behold him for whom sleep is sought by the silence of a slackened household, whose ears let no sound stir; the whole crowd of servants has fallen silent, and the footstep of those approaching nearer is set down suspended: hither, to be sure, he turns and thither, snatching at light sleep amid his ailments; the things he does not hear he complains he has heard.

[8] Quid in causa putas esse? Animus illi obstrepit. Hic placandus est, huius compescenda seditio est, quem non est quod existimes placidum, si iacet corpus: interdum quies inquieta est; et ideo ad rerum actus excitandi ac tractatione bonarum artium occupandi sumus, quotiens nos male habet inertia sui impatiens.

[8] What do you think is the cause? His spirit is clamoring against him. This must be placated; its sedition must be checked; nor is there any reason for you to suppose it placid if the body lies down: sometimes repose is unquiet; and therefore we must be roused to the acts of things and be occupied with the tractation of good arts, whenever inertia, impatient of itself, afflicts us.

[9] Magni imperatores, cum male parere militem vident, aliquo labore compescunt et expeditionibus detinent: numquam vacat lascivire districtis, nihilque tam certum est quam otii vitia negotio discuti. Saepe videmur taedio rerum civilium et infelicis atque ingratae stationis paenitentia secessisse; tamen in illa latebra in quam nos timor ac lassitudo coniecit interdum recrudescit ambitio. Non enim excisa desit, sed fatigata aut etiam obirata rebus parum sibi cedentibus.

[9] Great commanders, when they see the soldier obeying badly, quell him with some labor and detain him with expeditions: never is there leisure to run riot for men under strain, and nothing is so certain as that the vices of leisure are dispelled by business. Often we seem to have withdrawn from civil affairs through weariness and the repentance of an unhappy and ungrateful station; yet in that hiding-place into which fear and lassitude have cast us, ambition sometimes recrudesces. For it is not absent because it has been excised, but because it is fatigued, or even angered at affairs yielding too little to it.

[10] Idem de luxuria dico, quae videtur aliquando cessisse, deinde frugalitatem professos sollicitat atque in media parsimonia voluptates non damnatas sed relictas petit, et quidem eo vehementius quo occultius. Omnia enim vitia in aperto leniora sunt; morbi quoque tunc ad sanitatem inclinant cum ex abdito erumpunt ac vim sui proferunt. Et avaritiam itaque et ambitionem et cetera mala mentis humanae tunc perniciosissima scias esse cum simulata sanitate subsidunt.

[10] I say the same about luxury, which seems at times to have yielded, then solicits those who have professed frugality and, in the midst of parsimony, seeks pleasures not condemned but left behind—and indeed the more vehemently the more covertly. For all vices are milder in the open; diseases too incline toward health when they erupt from hiding and bring forth their own force. And so you should know that avarice and ambition and the other evils of the human mind are most pernicious when, under feigned health, they lie low.

[11] Otiosi videmur, et non sumus. Nam si bona fide sumus, si receptui cecinimus, si speciosa contempsimus, ut paulo ante dicebam, nulla res nos avocabit, nullus hominum aviumque concentus interrumpet cogitationes bonas, solidasque iam et certas.

[11] We seem to be at leisure, and we are not. For if we are in earnest, if we have sounded the retreat, if we have despised the specious things, as I was saying a little before, nothing will call us away, no concert of men and of birds will interrupt good thoughts, now solid and certain.

[12] Leve illud ingenium est nec sese adhuc reduxit introsus quod ad vocem et accidentia erigitur; habet intus aliquid sollicitudinis et habet aliquid concepti pavoris quod illum curiosum facit, ut ait Vergilius noster:

[12] That light nature it is, and it has not yet led itself back inward, which is stirred at a voice and at accidents; it has within something of solicitude and has something of conceived terror, which makes it curious, as our Vergil says:

et me, quem dudum non ulla iniecta movebant
tela neque adverso glomerati e agmine Grai,
nunc omnes terrent aurae, sonus excitat omnis
suspensum et pariter comitique onerique timentem.

and me—whom formerly no hurled weapons moved,
nor Greeks massed in an adverse battle-line—
now every breeze terrifies, every sound rouses me,
on edge and fearing equally for both my companion and my burden.

[13] Prior ille sapiens est, quem non tela vibrantia, non arietata inter arma agminis densi, non urbis impulsae fragor territat: hic alter imperitus est, rebus suis timet ad omnem crepitum expavescens, quem una quaelibet vox pro fremitu accepta deiecit, quem motus levissimi exanimant; timidum illum sarcinae faciunt.

[13] The former is the wise man, whom neither brandished missiles, nor arms of a dense column ramming against one another, nor the crash of a battered city terrifies: this latter is inexpert, he fears for his own affairs, taking fright at every rattle, whom any single voice, received as a roar, has cast down, whom the very slightest motions make breathless; his baggage makes him timid.

[14] Quemcumque ex istis felicibus elegeris, multa trahentibus, multa portantibus, videbis illum 'comitique onerique timentem'. Tunc ergo te scito esse compositum cum ad te nullus clamor pertinebit, cum te nulla vox tibi excutiet, non si blandietur, non si minabitur, non si inani sono vana circumstrepet.

[14] Whomever among those fortunate men you may choose—dragging many things, carrying many things—you will see him “fearing equally for companion and for burden.” Then therefore know yourself to be composed when no clamor will pertain to you, when no voice will shake you from yourself, not if it flatter, not if it threaten, not if with inane sound vain things make a din all around.

[15] 'Quid ergo? non aliquando commodius est et carere convicio?' Fateor; itaque ego ex hoc loco migrabo. Experiri et exercere me volui: quid necesse est diutius torqueri, cum tam facile remedium Ulixes sociis etiam adversus Sirenas invenerit Vale.

[15] 'What then? Is it not sometimes more convenient also to be without abuse?' I confess; and so I will move away from this place. I wished to try and to exercise myself: what need is there to be tormented longer, since Ulysses found so easy a remedy even for his companions against the Sirens? Farewell.

LVII. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

57. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETING

[1] Cum a Bais deberem Neapolim repetere, facile credidi tempestatem esse, ne iterum navem experirer; et tantum luti tota via fuit ut possim videri nihilominus navigasse. Totum athletarum fatum mihi illo die perpetiendum fuit: a ceromate nos haphe excepit in crypta Neapolitana.

[1] When I had to return to Naples from Baiae, I readily believed there was a tempest, lest I should make trial of a ship again; and there was so much mud along the whole road that I might seem nonetheless to have sailed. The entire fate of athletes had to be endured by me that day: from the ceroma the haphe received us in the Neapolitan tunnel.

[2] Nihil illo carcere longius, nihil illis facibus obscurius, quae nobis praestant non ut per tenebras videamus, sed ut ipsas. Ceterum etiam si locus haberet lucem, pulvis auferret, in aperto quoque res gravis et molesta: quid illic, ubi in se volutatur et, cum sine ullo spiramento sit inclusus, in ipsos a quibus excitatus est recidit? Duo incommoda inter sc contraria simul pertulimus: eadem via, eodem die et luto et pulvere laboravimus.

[2] Nothing was longer than that prison, nothing more obscure than those torches, which afford us not that we may see through the darkness, but the darkness itself. Moreover, even if the place had light, the dust would carry it off—a thing grievous and troublesome even in the open: what there, where it rolls upon itself and, when shut in without any breathing‑space, falls back upon the very men by whom it was aroused? We endured at the same time two inconveniences mutually contrary: by the same road, on the same day we labored both with mud and with dust.

[3] Aliquid tamen mihi illa obscuritas quod cogitarem dedit: sensi quendam ictum animi et sine metu mutationem quam insolitae rei novitas simul ac foeditas fecerat. Non de me nunc tecum loquor, qui multum ab homine tolerabili, nedum a perfecto absum, sed de illo in quem fortuna ius perdidit: huius quoque ferietur animus, mutabitur color.

[3] Nevertheless that obscurity gave me something to think about: I sensed a certain stroke to the spirit and, without fear, a change which the novelty of the unusual thing as well as its foulness had produced. I am not now speaking with you about myself, who am far from a tolerable man, to say nothing of a perfect one, but about the man over whom Fortune has lost her right: this man’s spirit too will be struck, his color will be changed.

[4] Quaedam enim, mi Lucili, nulla effugere virtus potest; admonet illam natura mortalitatis suae. Itaque et vultum adducet ad tristia et inhorrescet ad subita et caligabit, si vastam altitudinem in crepidine eius constitutus despexerit: non est hoc timor, sed naturalis affectio inexpugnabilis rationi.

[4] For certain things, my Lucilius, no virtue can escape; nature reminds it of its own mortality. And so it will both draw the face toward sadness and shudder at sudden things and grow dim, if, stationed on the brink of a vast height, he has looked down: this is not fear, but a natural affection inexpugnable to reason.

[5] Itaque fortes quidam et paratissimi fundere suum sanguinem alienum videre non possunt; quidam ad vulneris novi, quidam ad veteris et purulenti tractationem inspectionemque succidunt ac linquuntur animo; alii gladium facilius recipiunt quam vident.

[5] And so certain brave men and most-prepared to pour out their own blood cannot look upon another’s; some at the handling and inspection of a new wound, some at that of an old and purulent one, sink down and are left without spirit; others more easily receive a sword than see it.

[6] Sensi ergo, ut dicebam, quandam non quidem perturbationem, sed mutationem: rursus ad primum conspectum redditae lucis alacritas rediit incogitata et iniussa. Illud deinde mecum loqui coepi, quam inepte quaedam magis aut minus timeremus, cum omnium idem finis esset. Quid enim interest utrum supra aliquem vigilarium ruat an mons?

[6] Therefore I sensed, as I was saying, not indeed a perturbation, but a change: again, at the first sight of the returned light, alacrity returned unthought-of and unbidden. Then I began to say this to myself, how ineptly we fear certain things more or less, since the same end is for all. For what difference is there whether a watch-tower falls upon someone, or a mountain?

nihil invenies. Erunt tamen qui hanc ruinam magis timeant, quamvis utraque mortifera aeque sit; adeo non effectu, sed efficientia timor spectat.

You will find no difference. There will, however, be those who fear this collapse more, although each is equally deadly; thus fear regards not the effect, but the efficient cause.

[7] Nunc me putas de Stoicis dicere, qui existimant animam hominis magno pondere extriti permanere non posse et statim spargi, quia non fuerit illi exitus liber? Ego vero non facio: qui hoc dicunt videntur mihi errare.

[7] Do you now suppose me to be speaking of the Stoics, who esteem that the soul of a man, crushed by a great weight, cannot remain and is immediately scattered, because there was not for it a free exit? I, for my part, do not; those who say this seem to me to err.

[8] Quemadmodum flamma non potest opprimi - nam circa id diffugit quo urgetur -, quemadmodum aer verbere atque ictu non laeditur, ne scinditur quidem, sed circa id cui cessit refunditur, sic animus, qui ex tenuissimo constat, deprehendi non potest nec intra corpus effligi, sed beneficio subtilitatis suae per ipsa quibus premitur erumpit. Quomodo fulmini, etiam cum latissime percussit ac fulsit, per exiguum foramen est reditus, sic animo, qui adhuc tenuior est igne, per omne corpus fuga est.

[8] Just as flame cannot be suppressed—for it scatters around that which presses it—just as air is not injured by beating and by blow, nor even sundered, but is poured back around that to which it has yielded, so the mind, which consists of the most tenuous stuff, cannot be seized nor beaten out within the body, but by the benefit of its subtlety it erupts through the very things by which it is pressed. As for lightning, even when it has struck and flashed most widely, there is a return through a tiny aperture, so for the mind, which is even more tenuous than fire, there is a flight through the whole body.

[9] Itaque de illo quaerendum est, an possit immortalis esse. Hoc quidem certum habe: si superstes est corpori, opteri illum nullo genere posse, [propter quod non perit] quoniam nulla immortalitas cum exceptione est, nec quicquam noxium aeterno est. Vale.

[9] Therefore inquiry must be made about it, whether it can be immortal. Hold this at least as certain: if it survives the body, it can by no kind (of means) be crushed, [on account of which it does not perish,] since no immortality is with exception, nor is anything noxious to the eternal. Farewell.

LVIII. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

58. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETING

[1] Quanta verborum nobis paupertas, immo egestas sit, numquam magis quam hodierno die intellexi. Mille res inciderunt, cum forte de Platone loqueremur, quae nomina desiderarent nec haberent, quaedam vero cum habuissent fastidio nostro perdidissent. Quis autem ferat in egestate fastidium?

[1] How great a poverty of words—nay rather, a destitution—is ours, I never understood more than on this very day. A thousand matters cropped up, as we happened to be speaking about Plato, which were wanting names and did not have them, and certain indeed which, though they had had them, had lost them through our fastidiousness. But who can endure fastidiousness in destitution?

[2] Hunc quem Graeci 'oestron' vocant, pecora peragentem et totis saltibus dissipantem, 'asilum' nostri vocabant. Hoc Vergilio licet credas:

[2] This thing which the Greeks call 'oestron', driving the herds and scattering them through all the woodland pastures, our people used to call 'asilus'. This you may trust to Vergil:

est lucum Silari iuxta ilicibusque virentem
plurimus Alburnum volitans, cui nomen asilo
Romanum est, oestrum Grai vertere vocantes,
asper, acerba sonans, quo tota exterrita silvis
diffugiunt armenta.

there is a grove next to the Silarus and green with holm-oaks,
where, swarming most, it flits about Alburnus; its Roman name is “asilus,”
the Greeks, rendering it, call it “oestrus,”
harsh, sounding bitterly, at which, terrified, from the woods
the herds scatter.

[3] Puto intellegi istud verbum interisse. Ne te longe differam, quaedam simplicia in usu erant, sicut 'cernere ferro inter se' dicebant. Idem Vergilius hoc probabit tibi:

[3] I think it may be understood that that word has perished. Not to detain you long, certain simple expressions were in use, as they used to say 'to decide among themselves by the sword.' That same Vergil will prove this to you:

ingentis, genitos diversis partibus orbis,
inter se coiisse viros et cernere ferro.

mighty men, born in diverse parts of the world,
have come together with one another and decide by the sword.

Quod nunc 'decernere' dicimus: simplicis illius verbi usus amissus est.

What we now say as 'to decern': the use of that simple word has been lost.

[4] Dicebant antiqui 'si iusso', id est 'iussero'. Hoc nolo mihi credas, sed eidem Vergilio:

[4] The ancients used to say 'if I shall have ordered,' that is, 'I shall have ordered.' This I do not want you to believe on my authority, but on that same Vergil’s:

cetera, qua iusso, mecum manus inferat arma.

the rest, where, if I order, let the band bring arms with me.

[5] Non id ago nunc hac diligentia ut ostendam quantum tempus apud grammaticum perdiderim, sed ut ex hoc intellegas quantum apud Ennium et Accium verborum situs occupaverit, cum apud hunc quoque, qui cotidie excutitur, aliqua nobis subducta sint.

[5] I am not now doing this with such diligence in order to show how much time I have wasted with the grammarian, but so that from this you may understand how much, in Ennius and Accius, the disposition of words has occupied attention, since in the case of this man too, who is examined daily, certain things have eluded us.

[6] 'Quid sibi' inquis 'ista praeparatio vult? quo spectat?' Non celabo te: cupio, si fieri potest, propitiis auribus tuis 'essentiam' dicere; si minus, dicam et iratis. Ciceronem auctorem huius verbi habeo, puto locupletem; si recentiorem quaeris, Fabianum, disertum et elegantem, orationis etiam ad nostrum fastidium nitidae.

[6] 'What,' you say, 'does that preparation mean? what does it aim at?' I will not conceal it from you: I desire, if it can be done, to say 'essence' to your favorable ears; if not, I will say it even to ears that are angry. I have Cicero as the author of this word—I think a substantial one; if you seek a more recent one, Fabianus, eloquent and elegant, whose oration is polished even to our fastidiousness.

Quid enim fiet, mi Lucili? quomodo dicetur 'ousia', res necessaria, natura continens fundamentum omnium? Rogo itaque permittas mihi hoc verbo uti.

For what, indeed, will happen, my Lucilius? how will 'ousia' be said, a necessary thing, the nature containing the foundation of all things? I ask therefore that you permit me to use this word.

Nihilominus dabo operam ut ius a te datum parcissime exerceam; fortasse contentus ero mihi licere.

Nevertheless I will take pains to exercise the right given by you most sparingly; perhaps I shall be content that it is permitted to me.

[7] Quid proderit facilitas tua, cum ecce id nullo modo Latine exprimere possim propter quod linguae nostrae convicium feci? Magis damnabis angustias Romanas, si scieris unam syllabam esse quam mutare non possum. Quae sit haec quaeris?

[7] What will your indulgence profit, when—behold—I can in no way express in Latin that very thing on account of which I made a reproach against our language? You will the more condemn Roman narrowness, if you learn that there is one syllable which I cannot alter. What this is, you ask?

'to on'. Duri tibi videor ingenii: in medio positum, posse sic transferri ut dicam 'quod est'. Sed multum interesse video: cogor verbum pro vocabulo ponere; sed si ita necesse est, ponam 'quod est'.

'to on'. I seem to you of a hard ingenium: being set in the middle, it can be translated thus, that I should say 'what is'. But I see there is a great difference: I am compelled to put a verb in place of a vocable; but if it is necessary thus, I will put 'what is'.

[8] Sex modis hoc a Platone dici amicus noster, homo eruditissimus, hodierno die dicebat. Omnes tibi exponam, si ante indicavero esse aliquid genus, esse et speciem. Nunc autem primum illud genus quaerimus ex quo ceterae species suspensae sunt, a quo nascitur omnis divisio, quo universa comprensa sunt.

[8] Our friend, a most erudite man, was saying today that this is said by Plato in six modes. I shall expound them all to you, if first I shall have indicated that there is such a thing as a genus and a species. Now, however, we are first seeking that genus from which the other species are suspended, from which every division is born, by which all things are encompassed.

Invenietur autem si coeperimus singula retro legere; sic enim perducemur ad primum.

It will be found, however, if we begin to read the particulars backward; for thus we shall be led to the first.

[9] Homo species est, ut Aristoteles ait; equus species est; canis species est. Ergo commune aliquod quaerendum est his omnibus vinculum, quod illa complectatur et sub se habeat. Hoc quid est?

[9] Man is a species, as Aristotle says; the horse is a species; the dog is a species. Therefore some common bond must be sought for all these, which may encompass those and have them under itself. What is this?

animal. Ergo genus esse coepit horum omnium quae modo rettuli - hominis, equi, canis - animal.

animal. Therefore the genus of all these which I have just recounted - of man, of horse, of dog - began to be animal.

[10] Sed quaedam [quae] animum habent nec sunt animalia; placet enim satis et arbustis animam inesse; itaque et vivere illa et mori dicimus. Ergo animantia superiorem tenebunt locum, quia et animalia in hac forma sunt et sata. Sed quaedam anima carent, ut saxa; itaque erit aliquid animantibus antiquius, corpus scilicet.

[10] But certain things [which] have a soul and are not animals; for it seems sufficiently acceptable that even shrubs have a soul in them; and so we say that those live and die. Therefore animate things will occupy the higher place, since both animals are in this form and the sown (things). But certain things lack a soul, like stones; and so there will be something prior to animate things—namely, body.

Hoc sic dividam ut dicam corpora omnia aut animantia esse aut inanima.

I shall divide this thus: I say that all bodies are either animate or inanimate.

[11] Etiam nunc est aliquid superius quam corpus; dicimus enim quaedam corporalia esse, quaedam incorporalia. Quid ergo erit ex quo haec deducantur? illud cui nomen modo parum proprium imposuimus, 'quod est'. Sic enim in species secabitur ut dicamus: 'quod est' aut corporale est aut incorporale.

[11] Even now there is something superior to body; for we say that certain things are corporeal, certain incorporeal. What, then, will be that from which these are deduced? That to which we have just assigned a somewhat improper name, 'that which is'. For thus it will be cut into species so that we may say: 'that which is' is either corporeal or incorporeal.

[12] Hoc ergo est genus primum et antiquissimum et, ut ita dicam, generale; cetera genera quidem sunt, sed specialia. Tamquam homo genus est; habet enim in se nationum species, Graecos, Romanos, Parthos; colorum, albos, nigros, flavos; habet singulos, Catonem, Ciceronem, Lucretium. Ita qua multa continet, in genus cadit; qua sub alio est, in speciem.

[12] Therefore this is the first and most ancient genus and, so to speak, general; the other genera indeed exist, but they are special. Just as “man” is a genus; for it has within itself species of nations, Greeks, Romans, Parthians; of colors, whites, blacks, blonds; it has individuals, Cato, Cicero, Lucretius. Thus, inasmuch as it contains many things, it falls under genus; inasmuch as it is under another, under species.

Illud genus 'quod est' generale supra se nihil habet; initium rerum est; omnia sub illo sunt.

That genus 'what is', the general, has nothing above itself; it is the beginning of things; all things are under it.

[13] Stoici volunt superponere huic etiam nunc aliud genus magis principale; de quo statim dicam, si prius illud genus de quo locutus sum merito primum poni docuero, cum sit rerum omnium capax.

[13] The Stoics wish to superpose upon this even now another, a more principal genus; about which I will speak straightway, if first I shall have shown that that genus about which I have spoken is deservedly placed first, since it is capacious of all things.

[14] 'Quod est' in has species divido, ut sint corporalia aut incorporalia; nihil tertium est. Corpus quomodo divido? ut dicam: aut animantia sunt aut inanima.

[14] I divide 'what is' into these species, so that they are corporeals or incorporeals; there is nothing third. How do I divide body? So that I may say: either they are animate or inanimate.

Rursus animantia quemadmodum divido? ut dicam: quaedam animum habent, quaedam tantum animam, at sic: quaedam impetum habent, incedunt, transeunt, quaedam solo affixa radicibus aluntur, crescunt. Rursus animalia in quas species seco?

Again, how do I divide living things? to wit: some have mind, some only soul, and thus: some have impulse, they advance, they pass across; some, fastened to the soil by roots, are nourished and grow. Again, into what species do I divide animals?

aut mortalia sunt aut immortalia.

or they are mortal or immortal.

[15] Primum genus Stoicis quibusdam videtur 'quid'; quare videatur subiciam. 'In rerum' inquiunt 'natura quaedam sunt, quaedam non sunt, et haec autem quae non sunt rerum natura complectitur, quae animo succurrunt, tamquam Centauri, Gigantes et quidquid aliud falsa cogitatione formatum habere aliquam imaginem coepit, quamvis non habeat substantiam.'

[15] The first genus seems to certain Stoics to be the 'what'; why it seems so I will subjoin. 'In the nature of things,' they say, 'some things are, some things are not; and yet the nature of things embraces even these which are not, those which occur to the mind, such as Centaurs, Giants, and whatever else, formed by false cogitation, has begun to have some image, although it does not have substance.'

[16] Nunc ad id quod tibi promisi revertor, quomodo quaecumque sunt in sex modos Plato partiatur. Primum illud 'quod est' nec visu nec tactu nec ullo sensu comprenditur: cogitabile est. Quod generaliter est, tamquam homo generalis, sub oculos non venit; sed specialis venit, ut Cicero et Cato.

[16] Now I return to that which I promised you, how Plato partitions whatever things exist into six modes. First, that 'which is' is comprehended neither by sight nor by touch nor by any sense: it is cogitable. That which is in general, as the general man, does not come under the eyes; but the special does come, as Cicero and Cato.

Animal non videtur: cogitatur. Videtur autem species eius, equus et canis.

Animal is not seen: it is cogitated. But its species are seen, the horse and the dog.

[17] Secundum ex his quae sunt ponit Plato quod eminet et exsuperat omnia; hoc ait per excellentiam esse. Poeta communiter dicitur - omnibus enim versus facientibus hoc nomen est - sed iam apud Graecos in unius notam cessit: Homerum intellegas, cum audieris poetam. Quid ergo hoc est?

[17] The second among the things that are, Plato posits what is eminent and surpasses all; this he says, by pre-eminence, to be Being. Poet is said commonly - for to all who make verses this name belongs - but already among the Greeks it has passed into the note of one: you understand Homer when you have heard poet. What then is this?

deus scilicet, maior ac potentior cunctis.

God, of course, greater and more potent than all.

[18] Tertium genus est eorum quae proprie sunt; innumerabilia haec sunt, sed extra nostrum posita conspectum. Quae sint interrogas? Propria Platonis supellex est: 'ideas' vocat, ex quibus omnia quaecumque videmus fiunt et ad quas cuncta formantur.

[18] The third kind is of those things which properly are; these are innumerable, but placed outside our sight. You ask what they are? It is Plato’s proper furnishing: he calls them ‘ideas’, from which all the things whatsoever we see come to be, and to which all things are formed.

Hae immortales, immutabiles, inviolabiles sunt.

These are immortal, immutable, inviolable.

[19] Quid sit idea, id est quid Platoni esse videatur, audi: 'idea est eorum quae natura fiunt exemplar aeternum'. Adiciam definitioni interpretationem, quo tibi res apertior fiat. Volo imaginem tuam facere. Exemplar picturae te habeo, ex quo capit aliquem habitum mens nostra quem operi suo imponat; ita illa quae me docet et instruit facies, a qua petitur imitatio, idea est.

[19] What an idea is, that is, what it seems to Plato to be, hear: 'an idea is the eternal exemplar of those things which are produced by nature.' I will add to the definition an interpretation, in order that the matter may be made clearer to you. I wish to make your image. I have you as the exemplar of the picture, from which our mind takes on some form that it imposes upon its work; thus that face which teaches and instructs me, from which the imitation is sought, is the idea.

Talia ergo exemplaria infinita habet rerum natura, hominum, piscium, arborum, ad quae quodcumque fieri ab illa debet exprimitur.

Therefore nature has infinite such exemplars, of men, of fishes, of trees, according to which whatever ought to be made by it is expressed.

[20] Quartum locum habebit idos. Quid sit hoc idos attendas oportet, et Platoni imputes, non mihi, hanc rerum difficultatem; nulla est autem sine difficultate subtilitas. Paulo ante pictoris imagine utebar.

[20] The fourth place will be held by the idos. You ought to attend to what this idos is, and ascribe this difficulty of things to Plato, not to me; moreover, no subtlety is without difficulty. A little earlier I was using the image of a painter.

Ille cum reddere Vergilium coloribus vellet, ipsum intuebatur. Idea erat Vergilii facies, futuri operis exemplar; ex hac quod artifex trahit et operi suo imposuit idos est. Quid intersit quaeris?

When he wished to render Vergil with colors, he gazed upon the man himself. The Idea was Vergil’s face, the exemplar of the future work; from this, that which the artificer draws forth and has imposed upon his work is the idos. You ask what the difference is?

Alterum exemplar est, alterum forma ab exemplari sumpta et operi imposita; alteram artifex imitatur, alteram facit. Habet aliquam faciem statua: haec est idos. Habet aliquam faciem exemplar ipsum quod intuens opifex statuam figuravit: haec idea est.

One thing is the exemplar, another the form taken from the exemplar and imposed upon the work; the one the artificer imitates, the other he makes. The statue has a certain appearance: this is the idos. The exemplar itself, at which the workman, looking, shaped the statue, has a certain appearance: this is the idea.

Etiam nunc si aliam desideras distinctionem, idos in opere est, idea extra opus, nec tantum extra opus est, sed ante opus.

Even now, if you desire another distinction, the idos is in the work, the idea outside the work, and not only outside the work, but before the work.

[22] Quintum genus est eorum quae communiter sunt; haec incipiunt ad nos pertinere; hic sunt omnia, homines, pecora, res. Sextum genus eorum quae quasi sunt, tamquam inane, tamquam tempus.

[22] The fifth kind is of those things which are in common; these begin to pertain to us; here are all things, men, cattle, things. The sixth kind of those things which are as it were, as if the void, as if time.

Quaecumque videmus aut tangimus Plato in illis non numerat quae esse proprie putat; fluunt enim et in assidua deminutione atque adiectione sunt. Nemo nostrum idem est in senectute qui fuit iuvenis; nemo nostrum est idem mane qui fuit pridie. Corpora nostra rapiuntur fluminum more.

Whatever we see or touch, Plato does not number among those things which he thinks properly to exist; for they flow and are in continual deminution and addition. None of us is the same in old age as he was in youth; none of us is the same in the morning as he was the day before. Our bodies are swept away after the manner of rivers.

Quidquid vides currit cum tempore; nihil ex iis quae videmus manet; ego ipse, dum loquor mutari ista, mutatus sum.

Whatever you see runs with time; nothing of those things which we see remains; I myself, while I speak that those things are being changed, have been changed.

[23] Hoc est quod ait Heraclitus: 'in idem flumen bis descendimus et non descendimus'. Manet enim idem fluminis nomen, aqua transmissa est. Hoc in amne manifestius est quam in homine; sed nos quoque non minus velox cursus praetervehit, et ideo admiror dementiam nostram, quod tantopere amamus rem fugacissimam, corpus, timemusque ne quando moriamur, cum omne momentum mors prioris habitus sit: vis tu non timere ne semel fiat quod cotidie fit!

[23] This is what Heraclitus says: 'into the same river we go down twice and we do not go down.' For the same name of the river remains, the water has been transmitted. This is more manifest in a stream than in a human; but a no less swift course carries us past as well, and therefore I marvel at our dementia, that we so greatly love the most fugacious thing, the body, and are afraid lest at some time we die, since every moment is the death of a prior state: do you wish not to fear that there should happen once what happens every day!

[24] De homine dixi, fluvida materia et caduca et omnibus obnoxia causis: mundus quoque, aeterna res et invicta, mutatur nec idem manet. Quamvis enim omnia in sc habeat quae habuit, aliter habet quam habuit: ordinem mutat.

[24] I have spoken of man, of material that is fluid and caducous and obnoxious to all causes: the world too, an eternal and unconquered thing, is changed and does not remain the same. For although indeed it has in itself all the things it had, it has them otherwise than it had: it changes its order.

[25] 'Quid ista' inquis 'mihi subtilitas proderit?' Si me interrogas, nihil; sed quemadmodum ille caelator oculos diu intentos ac fatigatos remittit atque avocat et, ut dici solet, pascit, sic nos animum aliquando debemus relaxare et quibusdam oblectamentis reficere. Sed ipsa oblectamenta opera sint; ex his quoque, si observaveris, sumes quod possit fieri salutare.

[25] 'What will that subtlety profit me?' you ask. If you ask me, nothing; but just as that engraver lets his eyes, long intent and wearied, relax and calls them away and, as it is said, feeds them, so we ought sometimes to relax the mind and refresh it with certain amusements. But let the amusements themselves be works; from these too, if you observe, you will take something that can become salutary.

[26] Hoc ego, Lucili, facere soleo: ex omni notione, etiam si a philosophia longissime aversa est, eruere aliquid conor et utile efficere. Quid istis quae modo tractavimus remotius a reformatione morum? quomodo meliorem me facere ideae Platonicae possunt?

[26] This I, Lucilius, am wont to do: from every notion, even if it is very far removed from philosophy, I try to extricate something and make it useful. What is more remote from the reformation of morals than those things which we have just handled? how can the Platonic Ideas make me better?

quid ex istis traham quod cupiditates meas comprimat? Vel hoc ipsum, quod omnia ista quae sensibus serviunt, quae nos accendunt et irritant, negat Plato ex iis esse quae vere sint.

What can I extract from these that will compress my desires? Even this very thing: that all those things which serve the senses, which kindle and irritate us, Plato denies to be among the things that truly are.

[27] Ergo ista imaginaria sunt et ad tempus aliquam faciem ferunt, nihil horum stabile nec solidum est; et nos tamen cupimus tamquam aut semper futura aut semper habituri. Imbecilli fluvidique inter vana constitimus: ad illa mittamus animum quae aeterna sunt. Miremur in sublimi volitantes rerum omnium formas deumque inter illa versantem et hoc providentem, quemadmodum quae immortalia facere non potuit, quia materia prohibebat, defendat a morte ac ratione vitium corporis vincat.

[27] Therefore those things are imaginary and for a time bear some appearance; nothing of these is stable nor solid; and yet we desire them as though they were either going to be forever or we were going to have them forever. Feeble and fluid, we take our stand amid vanities: let us send our mind to those things which are eternal. Let us admire, on high, the Forms of all things flitting, and God moving among them and exercising providence over this realm—how he defends from death those things which he could not make immortal, because matter was prohibiting, and by reason conquers the defect of the body.

[28] Manent enim cuncta, non quia aeterna sunt, sed quia defenduntur cura regentis: immortalia tutore non egerent. Haec conservat artifex fragilitatem materiae vi sua vincens. Contemnamus omnia quae adeo pretiosa non sunt ut an sint omnino dubium sit.

[28] For all things endure, not because they are eternal, but because they are defended by the care of the regent: immortal things would not need a guardian. The Artificer preserves these, conquering the fragility of matter by his own force. Let us contemn all things which are so little precious that it is doubtful whether they exist at all.

[29] Illud simul cogitemus, si mundum ipsum, non minus mortalem quam nos sumus, providentia periculis eximit, posse aliquatenus nostra quoque providentia longiorem prorogari huic corpusculo moram, si voluptates, quibus pars maior perit, potuerimus regere et coercere.

[29] Let us at the same time consider this: if the world itself, no less mortal than we are, is by providence removed from perils, it is possible that to some extent by our own providence a longer delay be prolonged to this little body, if we can rule and restrain the pleasures by which the greater part perishes.

[30] Plato ipse ad senectutem se diligentia protulit. Erat quidem corpus validum ac forte sortitus et illi nomen latitudo pectoris fecerat, sed navigationes ac pericula multum detraxerant viribus; parsimonia tamen et eorum quae aviditatem evocant modus et diligens sui tutela perduxit illum ad senectutem multis prohibentibus causis.

[30] Plato himself by diligence advanced to old age. He had indeed been allotted a body strong and robust, and the breadth of his chest had made a name for him; but voyages and dangers had greatly detracted from his strength; parsimony, however, and a measure in those things which evoke avidity, and a diligent guardianship of himself, led him on to old age, with many causes hindering.

[31] Nam hoc scis, puto, Platoni diligentiae suae beneficio contigisse quod natali suo decessit et annum unum atque octogensimum implevit sine ulla deductione. Ideo magi, qui forte Athenis erant, immolaverunt defuncto, amplioris fuisse sortis quam humanae rati, quia consummasset perfectissimum numerum, quem novem novies multiplicata componunt. Non dubito quin paratus sis et paucos dies ex ista summa et sacrificium remittere.

[31] For you know this, I suppose: it befell Plato, by the benefit of his own diligence, that he died on his birthday and completed eighty-one years without any deduction. For this reason the magi, who by chance were at Athens, offered sacrifice for the deceased, thinking him to have been of a lot greater than human, because he had consummated the most perfect number, which nine multiplied nine times compose. I do not doubt that you are ready to remit both a few days from that total and the sacrifice.

[32] Potest frugalitas producere senectutem, quam ut non puto concupiscendam, ita ne recusandam quidem; iucundum est secum esse quam diutissime, cum quis se dignum quo frueretur effecit.

[32] Frugality can produce/prolong old age, which, as I do not think to be something to be coveted, so neither to be refused; it is pleasant to be with oneself for as long as possible, when one has made oneself worthy to be enjoyed.

Itaque de isto feremus sententiam, an oporteat fastidire senectutis extrema et finem non opperiri sed manu facere. Prope est a timente qui fatum segnis exspectat, sicut ille ultra modum deditus vino est qui amphoram exsiccat et faecem quoque exsorbet.

Therefore on this matter we shall render a judgment, whether it is proper to loathe the extremities of old age and not await the end but to make it by one’s own hand. He who sluggishly awaits fate is close to the fearful, just as that man is beyond measure devoted to wine who drains the amphora and even gulps down the dregs.

[33] De hoc tamen quaeremus, pars summa vitae utrum faex sit an liquidissimum ac purissimum quiddam, si modo mens sine iniuria est et integri sensus animum iuvant nec defectum et praemortuum corpus est; plurimum enim refert, vitam aliquis extendat an mortem.

[33] About this, however, we shall inquire, whether the topmost part of life is dregs or something most limpid and most pure, provided that the mind is without injury and intact senses aid the spirit and the body is not defective and premortem; for it matters very much whether one is extending life or death.

[34] At si inutile ministeriis corpus est, quidni oporteat educere animum laborantem? et fortasse paulo ante quam debet faciendum est, ne cum fieri debebit facere non possis; et cum maius periculum sit male vivendi quam cito moriendi, stultus est qui non exigua temporis mercede magnae rei aleam redimit. Paucos longissima senectus ad mortem sine iniuria pertulit, multis iners vita sine usu sui iacuit: quanto deinde crudelius iudicas aliquid ex vita perdidisse quam ius finiendae?

[34] But if the body is useless for services, why should it not be proper to lead out the struggling spirit? and perhaps it must be done a little earlier than it ought, lest, when it will have to be done, you be unable to do it; and since there is a greater danger in living badly than in dying quickly, he is a fool who does not redeem the hazard of a great matter at the price of no small amount of time. A very long old age has carried few to death without injury; for many, an inert life has lain deprived of its own use: how much, then, more cruelly do you judge it to have lost something from life than the right of finishing it?

[35] Noli me invitus audire, tamquam ad te iam pertineat ista sententia, et quid dicam aestima: non relinquam senectutem, si me totum mihi reservabit, totum autem ab illa parte meliore; at si coeperit concutere mentem, si partes eius convellere, si mihi non vitam reliquerit sed animam, prosiliam ex aedificio putri ac ruenti.

[35] Do not listen to me unwillingly, as though that judgment already pertains to you, and appraise what I say: I will not abandon old age, if it will reserve me whole to myself—whole, moreover, in that better part; but if it begins to shake the mind, to tear its parts asunder, if it leaves to me not a life but a soul, I will spring out from a putrid and collapsing edifice.

[36] Morbum morte non fugiam, dumtaxat sanabilem nec officientem animo. Non afferam mihi manus propter dolorem: sic mori vinci est. Hunc tamen si sciero perpetuo mihi esse patiendum, exibo, non propter ipsum, sed quia impedimento mihi futurus est ad omne propter quod vivitur; imbecillus est et ignavus qui propter dolorem moritur, stultus qui doloris causa vivit.

[36] I will not flee disease by death, provided it is sanable and does not interfere with the mind. I will not lay hands upon myself on account of pain: to die thus is to be vanquished. Yet if I shall know that this is to be suffered by me perpetually, I will exit—not on account of it itself, but because it will be an impediment to me with respect to everything for the sake of which one lives; feeble and ignoble is he who dies because of pain, a fool is he who lives for the sake of pain.

[37] Sed in longum exeo; est praeterea materia quae ducere diem possit: et quomodo finem imponere vitae poterit qui epistulae non potest? Vale ergo: quod libentius quam mortes meras lecturus es. Vale.

[37] But I am going on at length; besides, there is material that could draw out the day: and how will he be able to impose an end upon life who cannot upon a letter? Farewell then: a thing you will read more willingly than mere deaths. Farewell.

LIX. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

59. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETINGS

[1] Magnam ex epistula tua percepi voluptatem; permitte enim mihi uti verbis publicis nec illa ad significationem Stoicam revoca. Vitium esse voluptatem credimus. Sit sane; ponere tamen illam solemus ad demonstrandam animi hilarem affectionem.

[1] I received great pleasure from your letter; for allow me to use public words and do not recall them to the Stoic signification. We believe that pleasure is a vice. Be it so; yet we are accustomed to set it down to demonstrate a cheerful affection of the mind.

[2] Scio, inquam, et voluptatem, si ad nostrum album verba derigimus, rem infamem esse et gaudium nisi sapienti non contingere; est enim animi elatio suis bonis verisque fidentis. Vulgo tamen sic loquimur ut dicamus magnum gaudium nos ex illius consulatu aut nuptiis aut ex partu uxoris percepisse, quae adeo non sunt gaudia ut saepe initia futurae tristitiae sint; gaudio autem iunctum est non desinere nec in contrarium verti.

[2] I know, I say, that pleasure, if we direct the words to our register, is a disreputable thing, and that joy does not befall any save the wise; for it is an elevation of mind confident in its own goods and in the true. Commonly, however, we speak thus, that we say we have received great joy from that man’s consulship or his nuptials or from the childbirth of a wife—things which are so far from being joys that they are often the beginnings of future sadness; but to joy this is joined: not to cease, nor to be turned into the contrary.

[3] Itaque cum dicit Vergilius noster

[3] And so, when our Vergil says

et mala mentis
gaudia,

and evil joys
of the mind,

diserte quidem dicit, sed parum proprie; nullum enim malum gaudium est. Voluptatibus hoc nomen imposuit et quod voluit expressit; significavit enim homines malo suo laetos.

He does indeed speak eloquently, but not quite properly; for there is no evil joy. He imposed this name upon pleasures and expressed what he wished; for he signified that men are glad at their own evil.

[4] Tamen ego non immerito dixeram cepisse me magnam ex epistula tua voluptatem; quamvis enim ex honesta causa imperitus homo gaudeat, tamen affectum eius impotentem et in diversum statim inclinaturum voluptatem voco, opinione falsi boni motam, immoderatam et immodicam.

[4] Nevertheless I had with good reason said that I had taken great pleasure from your letter; for although an inexpert man may rejoice from an honorable cause, nevertheless I call his affect, impotent and straightway about to incline to the opposite, pleasure, moved by the opinion of a false good, immoderate and immodic.

Sed ut ad propositum revertar, audi quid me in epistula tua delectaverit: habes verba in potestate, non effert te oratio nec longius quam destinasti trahit.

But, that I may revert to the proposed subject, hear what has delighted me in your epistle: you have words in your power; the oration does not carry you away, nor does it drag you farther than you intended.

[5] Multi sunt qui ad id quod non proposuerant scribere alicuius verbi placentis decore vocentur, quod tibi non evenit: pressa sunt omnia et rei aptata; loqueris quantum vis et plus significas quam loqueris. Hoc maioris rei indicium est: apparet animum quoque nihil habere supervacui, nihil tumidi.

[5] Many are summoned, by the decor of some pleasing word, to write what they had not proposed—which has not happened to you: everything is pressed and fitted to the matter; you speak as much as you wish, and you signify more than you speak. This is an indication of a greater thing: it appears that the mind too has nothing superfluous, nothing tumid.

[6] Invenio tamen translationes verborum ut non temerarias ita quae periculum sui fecerint; invenio imagines, quibus si quis nos uti vetat et poetis illas solis iudicat esse concessas, neminem mihi videtur ex antiquis legisse, apud quos nondum captabatur plausibilis oratio: illi, qui simpliciter et demonstrandae rei causa eloquebantur, parabolis referti sunt, quas existimo necessarias, non ex eadem causa qua poetis, sed ut imbecillitas nostrae adminicula sint, ut et dicentem et audientem in rem praesentem adducant.

[6] I find, however, transfers of words—not rash, yet such as have incurred a risk; I find images, and if anyone forbids us to use them and judges that they have been granted to poets alone, he seems to me to have read none of the ancients, among whom a “plausible” oration was not yet being courted: those who spoke simply and for the sake of demonstrating the matter are replete with parables, which I consider necessary, not for the same reason as for poets, but so that they may be supports to our weakness, to bring both speaker and hearer into the matter at hand.

[7] Sextium ecce cum maxime lego, virum acrem, Graecis verbis, Romanis moribus philosophantem. Movit me imago ab illo posita: ire quadrato agmine exercitum, ubi hostis ab omni parte suspectus est, pugnae paratum. 'Idem' inquit 'sapiens facere debet: omnis virtutes suas undique expandat, ut ubicumque infesti aliquid orietur, illic parata praesidia sint et ad nutum regentis sine tumultu respondeant.' Quod in exercitibus iis quos imperatores magni ordinant fieri videmus, ut imperium ducis simul omnes copiae sentiant, sic dispositae ut signum ab uno datum peditem simul equitemque percurrat, hoc aliquanto magis necessarium esse nobis ait.

[7] Behold, I am just now reading Sextius, a keen man, philosophizing with Greek words, Roman mores. An image set forth by him moved me: the army going in a square formation, where the enemy is suspected from every side, prepared for battle. 'The same,' he says, 'the wise man ought to do: let him spread out all his virtues on every side, so that wherever anything hostile arises, there the garrisons may be ready and, at the nod of the ruler, respond without tumult.' That which we see done in those armies which great generals array, namely, that the command of the leader be felt at once by all the forces, so disposed that a signal given by one runs through the foot-soldier and the horseman at the same time, this he says is by some degree more necessary for us.

[8] Illi enim saepe hostem timuere sine causa, tutissimumque illis iter quod suspectissimum fuit: nihil stultitia pacatum habet; tam superne illi metus est quam infra; utrumque trepidat latus; sequuntur pericula et occurrunt; ad omnia pavet, imparata est et ipsis terretur auxiliis. Sapiens autem, ad omnem incursum munitus, intentus, non si paupertas, non si luctus, non si ignominia, non si dolor impetum faciat, pedem referet: interritus et contra illa ibit et inter illa.

[8] For they have often feared the enemy without cause, and the safest route for them was that which was most suspect: stupidity holds nothing pacified; fear is to them as much from above as from below; both flanks tremble; dangers follow and run to meet them; at everything it quails, it is unprepared and is terrified even by its very auxiliaries. The wise man, however, fortified for every incursion, intent, will not, if poverty, not if grief, not if ignominy, not if pain makes an assault, withdraw a step: undaunted he will go both against those things and among those things.

[9] Nos multa alligant, multa debilitant. Diu in istis vitiis iacuimus, elui difficile est; non enim inquinati sumus sed infecti.

[9] Many things bind us, many things debilitate us. Long have we lain in those vices; to wash it out is difficult, for we have not been polluted but infected.

Ne ab alia imagine ad aliam transeamus, hoc quaeram quod saepe mecum dispicio, quid ita nos stultitia tam pertinaciter teneat? Primo quia non fortiter illam repellimus nec toto ad salutem impetu nitimur, deinde quia illa quae a sapientibus viris reperta sunt non satis credimus nec apertis pectoribus haurimus leviterque tam magnae rei insistimus.

Lest we pass from one image to another, I will ask this which I often examine with myself: why is it that stupidity holds us so pertinaciously? First, because we do not bravely repel it, nor do we strive with our whole impetus toward salvation; then because we do not sufficiently believe the things that have been discovered by wise men, nor do we imbibe them with open hearts, and we only lightly take our stand upon a matter so great.

[10] Quemadmodum autem potest aliquis quantum satis sit adversus vitia discere, qui quantum a vitiis vacat discit? Nemo nostrum in altum descendit; summa tantum decerpsimus et exiguum temporis inpendisse philosophiae satis abundeque occupatis fuit.

[10] How, however, can anyone learn as much as suffices against vices, who learns only insofar as he has leisure from vices? None of us descends into the deep; we have only plucked the surface, and to have expended a scant portion of time on philosophy has been enough, and more than enough, for the busy.

[11] Illud praecipue inpedit, quod cito nobis placemus; si invenimus qui nos bonos viros dicat, qui prudentes, qui sanctos, adgnoscimus. Non sumus modica laudatione contenti: quidquid in nos adulatio sinc pudore congessit tamquam debitum prendimus. Optimos nos esse, sapientissimos adfirmantibus adsentimur, cum sciamus illos saepe multa mentiri; adeoque indulgemus nobis ut laudari velimus in id cu: contraria cum maxime facimus.

[11] That especially hinders us, that we are quickly pleased with ourselves; if we find someone who calls us good men, who prudent, who holy, we acknowledge it. We are not content with moderate laudation: whatever flattery without shame has heaped upon us, we seize as though a debt. We assent to those affirming that we are the best, most wise, although we know that they often lie about many things; and we so indulge ourselves that we wish to be praised for that very thing in which we are most of all doing the contrary.

Mitissimum ille se in ipsis suppliciis audit, in rapinis liberalissimum et in ebrietatibus ac libidinibus temperantissimum; sequitur itaque ut ideo mutari nolimus quia nos optimos esse credidimus.

He hears himself to be most mild in punishments themselves, most liberal in rapine, and most temperate in drunkenness and in lusts; accordingly it follows that for that reason we are unwilling to be changed, because we have believed ourselves to be the best.

[12] Alexander cum iam in India vagaretur et gentes ne finitimis quidem satis notas bello vastaret, in obsidione cuiusdam urbis, circumit muros et inbecillissima moenium quaerit, sagitta ictus diu persedere et incepta agere perseveravit. Deinde cum represso sanguine sicci vulneris dolor cresceret et crus suspensum equo paulatim obtorpuisset, coactus absistere 'omnes' inquit 'iurant esse me Iovis filium, sed vulnus hoc hominem esse me clamat'.

[12] Alexander, when he was already wandering in India and was laying waste by war peoples not known even to their neighbors well enough, during the siege of a certain city, while he was going around the walls and seeking the weakest parts of the fortifications, was struck by an arrow, yet for a long time kept his seat and persisted in carrying on his undertakings. Then, when the blood had been staunched and the pain of the drying wound was increasing, and his leg, hanging as he sat on the horse, had gradually grown numb, compelled to desist he said, 'Everyone swears that I am the son of Jove, but this wound cries out that I am a man.'

[13] Idem nos faciamus. Pro sua quemque portione adulatio infatuat: dicamus, 'vos quidem dicitis me prudentem esse, ego autem video quam multa inutilia concupiscam, nocitura optem. Ne hoc quidem intellego quod animalibus satietas monstrat, quis cibo debeat esse, quis potioni modus; quantum capiam adhuc nescio.'

[13] Let us do the same. Flattery infatuates each person according to his own portion: let us say, 'you indeed say that I am prudent, but I see how many unprofitable things I desire, that I opt for things that will be noxious. Not even this do I understand, which satiety shows to animals: what measure there ought to be for food, what for drink; how much I can contain I still do not know.'

[14] Iam docebo quemadmodum intellegas te non esse sapientem. Sapiens ille plenus est gaudio, hilaris et placidus, inconcussus; cum dis ex pari vivit. Nunc ipse te consule: si numquam maestus es, nulla spes animum tuum futuri exspectatione sollicitat, si per dies noctesque par et aequalis animi tenor erecti et placentis sibi est, pervenisti ad humani boni summam; sed si appetis voluptates et undique et cmnes, scito tantum tibi ex sapientia quantum ex gaudio deesse.

[14] Now I will teach you how you may understand that you are not wise. That wise man is full of joy, cheerful and placid, unshaken; he lives with the gods on equal terms. Now consult yourself: if you are never sad, no hope harasses your mind with expectation of the future, if through days and nights the tenor of your mind is even and equal—uplifted and pleasing to itself—you have arrived at the highest summit of human good; but if you crave pleasures, both from every side and all, know that there is lacking to you from wisdom just as much as there is lacking from joy.

Ad hoc cupis pervenire, sed erras, qui inter divitias illuc venturum esse te speras, inter honores, id est gaudium inter sollicitudines quaeris: ista, quae sic petis tamquam datura laetitiam ac voluptatem, causae dolorum sunt.

To this you desire to arrive, but you err, you who hope that you will come there amid riches, amid honors—that is, you seek joy amid solicitudes: those things which you thus pursue as though they were going to give gladness and pleasure are causes of pains.

[15] Omnes, inquam, illo tendunt ad gaudium, sed unde stabile magnumque consequantur ignorant: ille ex conviviis et luxuria, ille ex ambitione et circumfusa clientium turba, ille ex amica, alius ex studiorum liberalium vana ostentatione et nihil sanantibus litteris - omnes istos oblectamenta fallacia et brevia decipiunt, sicut ebrietas, quae unius horae hilarem insaniam longi temporis taedio pensat, sicut plausus et acclamationis secundae favor, qui magna sollicitudine et partus est et expiandus.

[15] All, I say, tend thither, to joy, but they are ignorant whence they may obtain a stable and great one: this man from banquets and luxury, that one from ambition and the encircling throng of clients, another from a mistress, another from the vain ostentation of liberal studies and letters that heal nothing — all these are deceived by delights that are deceptive and short‑lived, just as drunkenness balances the cheerful madness of a single hour with the weariness of a long time, just as the applause and favor of favorable acclamation, which is both brought forth with great solicitude and must be expiated.

[16] Hoc ergo cogita, hunc esse sapientiae effectum, gaudii aequalitatem. Talis est sapientis animus qualis mundus super lunam: semper illic serenum est. Habes ergo et quare velis sapiens esse, si numquam sine gaudio est.

[16] Think this, therefore: that this is the effect of wisdom—the evenness of joy. Such is the mind of the wise man as the world above the moon: it is always serene there. You have, therefore, also why you should wish to be wise, since the wise man is never without joy.

Gaudium hoc non nascitur nisi ex virtutum conscientia: non potest gaudere nisi fortis, nisi iustus, nisi temperans.

This joy is not born except from consciousness of the virtues: no one can rejoice unless he is brave, unless he is just, unless he is temperate.

[17] 'Quid ergo' inquis, 'stulti ac mali non gaudent?' Non magis quam praedam nancti leones: cum fatigaverunt se vino ac libidinibus, cum illos nox inter vitia defecit, cum voluptates angusto corpori ultra quam capiebat ingestae suppurare coeperunt, tunc exclamant miseri Vergilianum illum versum:

[17] 'What then,' you say, 'do the foolish and the wicked not rejoice?' No more than lions that have gotten prey: when they have wearied themselves with wine and lusts, when the night has failed them amid their vices, when pleasures, heaped into a narrow body beyond what it could hold, have begun to fester, then the wretches exclaim that Vergilian line:

namque ut supremam falsa inter gaudia noctem
egerimus nosti.

for indeed how we spent the last night amid false joys
you know.

[18] Omnem luxuriosi noctem inter falsa gaudia et quidem tamquam supremam agunt: illud gaudium quod deos deorumque aemulos sequitur non interrumpitur, non desinit; desineret, si sumptum esset aliunde. Quia non est alieni muneris, ne arbitrii quidem alieni est: quod non dedit fortuna non eripit. Vale.

[18] The luxurious spend every night among false joys, and indeed as though it were their last: that joy which follows the gods and the emulators of the gods is not interrupted, does not cease; it would cease, if it had been taken from elsewhere. Because it is not another’s gift, it is not even under another’s arbitration: what Fortune did not give, she does not snatch away. Farewell.

LX. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

60. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETING

[1] Queror, litigo, irascor. Etiam nunc optas quod tibi optavit nutrix tua aut paedagogus aut mater? nondum intellegis quantum mali optaverint?

[1] I complain, I litigate, I grow irate. Do you even now wish for what your nurse or your pedagogue or your mother wished for you? Do you not yet understand how much evil they have wished?

O quam inimica nobis sunt vota nostrorum! eo quidem inimiciora quo cessere felicius. Iam non admiror si omnia nos a prima pueritia mala sequuntur: inter exsecrationes parentum crevimus.

O how inimical to us are the vows of our own! indeed the more inimical, the more felicitously they have come to pass. Now I do not marvel if all evils have followed us from our earliest childhood: we have grown up amid the execrations of our parents.

Exaudiant di quandoque nostram pro nobis vocem gratuitam.

May the gods someday hear our gratuitous voice on our behalf.

[2] Quousque poscemus aliquid deos? [quasi] ita nondum ipsi alere nos possumus? Quamdiu sationibus implebimus magnarum urbium campos?

[2] How long shall we demand anything of the gods? [as if] even now we are not yet ourselves able to nourish ourselves? How long shall we fill the fields of great cities with sowings?

quamdiu nobis populus metet? quamdiu unius mensae instrumentum multa navigia et quidem non ex uno mari subvehent? Taurus paucissimorum iugerum pascuo impletur; una silva elephantis pluribus sufficit: homo et terra et mari pascitur.

how long will the people reap for us? how long will many ships, and indeed not from one sea, convey up the apparatus of a single table? A bull is filled by the pasture of very few iugera; one forest suffices for several elephants: man is fed both by land and by sea.

[3] Quid ergo? tam insatiabilem nobis natura alvum dedit, cum tam modica corpora dedisset, ut vastissimorum edacissimorumque animalium aviditatem vinceremus? Minime; quantulum est enim quod naturae datur!

[3] What then? Did nature give to us so insatiable a belly, when she had given such moderate bodies, that we might conquer the avidity of the most vast and most edacious animals? By no means; for how very little is that which is given to nature!

Parvo illa dimittitur: non fames nobis ventris nostri magno constat sed ambitio.

It is dismissed with little: it is not the hunger of our belly that costs us dearly, but ambition.

[4] Hos itaque, ut ait Sallustius, 'ventri oboedientes' animalium loco numeremus, non hominum, quosdam vero ne animalium quidem, sed mortuorum. Vivit is qui multis usui est, vivit is qui se utitur; qui vero latitant et torpent sic in domo sunt quomodo in conditivo. Horum licet in limine ipso nomen marmori inscribas: mortem suam antecesserunt.

[4] Therefore, as Sallust says, let us number these “obedient to the belly” in the rank of animals, not of men—indeed certain ones not even among animals, but among the dead. He lives who is of use to many; he lives who makes use of himself; but those who skulk and lie torpid are in the house just as in a sepulchre. For such as these you may inscribe their name upon the very threshold in marble: they have anticipated their own death.

Vale.

Farewell.

LXI. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

61. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS, GREETING

[1] Desinamus quod voluimus velle. Ego certe id ago senex eadem velim quae puer volui. In hoc unum eunt dies, in hoc noctes, hoc opus meum est, haec cogitatio, imponere veteribus malis finem.

[1] Let us cease to will what we have willed. I, for my part, aim at this—that, as an old man, I may not will the same things that I willed as a boy. To this one thing my days go, to this my nights, this is my work, this my cogitation: to impose an end upon my old ills.

Id ago ut mihi instar totius vitae dies sit; nec mehercules tamquam ultimum rapio, sed sic illum aspicio tamquam esse vel ultimus possit.

I aim that for me a day be as an image of my whole life; nor, by Hercules, do I snatch it up as though it were the ultimate, but I regard it thus as though it could even be the ultimate.

[2] Hoc animo tibi hanc epistulam scribo, tamquam me cum maxime scribentem mors evocatura sit; paratus exire sum, et ideo fruar vita quia quam diu futurum hoc sit non nimis pendeo. Ante senectutem curavi ut bene viverem, in senectute ut bene moriar; bene autem mori est libenter mori.

[2] With this mind I write this epistle to you, as though death were about to call me away while I am at the very height of writing; I am prepared to depart, and for that reason I shall enjoy life because I do not hang too much on how long this will last. Before old age I took care that I might live well, in old age that I might die well; and to die well is to die willingly.

[3] Da operam ne quid umquam invitus facias: quidquid necesse futurum est repugnanti, id volenti necessitas non est. Ita dico: qui imperia libens excipit partem acerbissimam servitutis effugit, facere quod nolit; non qui iussus aliquid facit miser est, sed qui invitus facit. Itaque sic animum componamus ut quidquid res exiget, id velimus, et in primis ut finem nostri sine tristitia cogitemus.

[3] See to it that you never do anything unwillingly: whatever will be necessary for one who resists is no necessity for one who is willing. I put it thus: he who accepts commands gladly escapes the most bitter part of servitude—doing what he does not want; it is not he who, being ordered, does something who is wretched, but he who does it unwillingly. Therefore let us so compose our mind that whatever the situation will require, we also will it, and first of all that we think upon our own end without sadness.

[4] Ante ad mortem quam ad vitam praeparandi sumus. Satis instructa vita est, sed nos in instrumenta eius avidi sumus; deesse aliquid nobis videtur et semper videbitur: ut satis vixerimus, nec anni nec dies faciunt sed animus. Vixi, Lucili carissime, quantum satis erat; mortem plenus exspecto.

[4] We must be prepared for death sooner than for life. Life is sufficiently equipped, but we are greedy for its instruments; something seems to be lacking to us, and will always seem so: that we have lived enough is made not by years nor by days, but by the spirit. I have lived, dearest Lucilius, as much as was enough; I await death replete.

Vale.

Farewell.

LXII. SENECA LUCILIO SUO SALUTEM

62. SENECA TO HIS LUCILIUS GREETING

[1] Mentiuntur qui sibi obstare ad studia liberalia turbam negotiorum videri volunt: simulant occupationes et augent et ipsi se occupant. Vaco, Lucili, vaco, et ubicumque sum, ibi meus sum. Rebus enim me non trado sed commodo, nec consector perdendi temporis causas; et quocumque constiti loco, ibi cogitationes meas tracto et aliquid in animo salutare converso.

[1] They lie who want it to seem to themselves that the throng of business stands in the way of liberal studies: they simulate occupations, and they both increase them and busy themselves. I am at leisure, Lucilius, I am at leisure, and wherever I am, there I am my own. For I do not hand myself over to affairs but lend myself; nor do I hunt out causes for wasting time; and in whatever place I have taken my stand, there I handle my thoughts and turn over something salutary in my mind.

[2] Cum me amicis dedi, non tamen mihi abduco nec cum illis moror quibus me tempus aliquod congregavit aut causa ex officio nata civili, sed cum optimo quoque sum; ad illos, in quocumque loco, in quocumque saeculo fuerunt, animum meum mitto.

[2] When I have given myself to friends, I still do not take myself away from myself, nor do I linger with those with whom some interval of time has congregated me, or by a cause born of civil office, but I am with the best men; to them, in whatever place, in whatever age they have been, I send my mind.

[3] Demetrium, virorum optimum, mecum circumfero et relictis conchyliatis cum illo seminudo loquor, illum admiror. Quidni admirer? vidi nihil ei deesse.

[3] I carry about with me Demetrius, the best of men, and, the purple-dyed garments left aside, I speak with him, half-naked with him; him I admire. Why should I not admire? I saw that nothing was lacking to him.

Contemnere aliquis omnia potest, omnia habere nemo potest: brevissima ad divitias per contemptum divitiarum via est. Demetrius autem noster sic vivit, non tamquam contempserit omnia, sed tamquam aliis habenda permiserit. Vale.

Someone can contemn all things; no one can possess all things: the shortest way to riches is through contempt of riches. But our Demetrius lives thus, not as though he had contemned all things, but as though he had permitted them to be possessed by others. Farewell.